


Juxtapose

by seths_dream



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anal Sex, Belting, Biting, CBT, Dirty Talk, Fisting, Gentle Sex, M/M, NO ROYAL SPOILERS, PWP, Rimming, Rough Sex, Subspace, it's just porn okay, juuuust a smidgeon but I want to tag just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23550091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seths_dream/pseuds/seths_dream
Summary: Akira is gentle and considerate in bed. He always makes sure Goro comes first, and always starts out slow. Goro is vicious when he fucks. He takes what he needs and good fucking luck keeping up.They make a good match.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira
Comments: 20
Kudos: 459





	1. Akira

**Author's Note:**

> Wow I haven't written anything in ages and I feel so out of practice. This fic has been lingering around my head for a few months and finally jumped out of me at 3 A.M. the other night and I couldn't stop myself from getting it down on paper. Barely edited and not betaed, so let me know if there are any glaring mistakes. Enjoy!

Goro’s used to hard and fast and no strings attached. In the past, his sexual encounters have ranged from briefly enjoyable to immediately regrettable.

He doesn’t know when it happened, but fucking Akira is different. When Akira fucks him he treats Goro like he’s something special. It simultaneously makes him want to die and makes him want to sing.

Akira never pushes. It took _weeks_ to build up from making out to fucking. Goro had to outright pick up Akira’s hand and place it meaningfully on his own upper thigh for Akira to pick up the pace, the first time.

Even now, months later, he eases Goro into it every time. He kisses him first, always, long and slow and searching. He always undresses them fully, always touches everywhere, always looks at Goro likes he means it.

Goro grouses, but he knows Akira sees through it. He’s never had something like this before. He doesn’t know how to act. Something in him likes being treated like he’s something precious, but he’ll never in a million years admit it.

Akira can always see through him, though. Somehow, he doesn’t mind it so much in these moments.

Today they’re lazing together naked in Akira’s bed. It’s been a while since they’ve had some alone time, but Morgana is out and Sakura closed shop early to accompany Futaba to Akihabara. It’s a slow, sticky-hot afternoon and Akira’s fan doesn’t help a whole lot.

Neither does the shared body heat when Akira drapes himself over Goro. He nuzzles his neck and licks his way down to Goro’s collarbone. It tickles a little. Goro hums and presents his neck in hope that Akira will bite, but he never does. Instead, he shifts his body so he’s straddling Goro and brushes the tips of his fingers along Goro’s sharp hipbones.

“You’re beautiful,” Akira says with a small, private smile.

Goro chooses to ignore that. Instead, he grabs one of Akira’s hands and brings it to his lips. He keeps eye contact when he closes his mouth around his index finger and sucks so he sees the exact moment Akira’s eyes go half-lidded and heated.

Once he releases Akira’s hand, Akira is roaming _everywhere._ He skates his hands down Goro’s ribs, rubs out an ache in Goro’s thigh that he hadn’t even realized he had, kisses Goro’s nipples and licks at his shoulders.

“Lube, please,” Goro grits out. He’s enjoying the attention, sure, but he’d love to speed things up at the moment.

From there it’s only a few short moments before Akira’s fingers are slicked up. He keeps his eyes on Goro as he stretches him slow, easing in one finger and only sliding in a second when Goro squirms and demands it.

“You sure?” Akira murmurs. “You’re still pretty tight.”

Goro physically reaches down and uncurls Akira’s ring finger and tries to push it in, himself. Akira huffs out a laugh. “Okay, okay, message received.”

That’s _much_ better, with two inside. It maybe _is_ a little faster than his body was ready for, but it’s what his mind wants and that’s what matters to Goro. It’s gotten him in trouble a few times in the past, but Akira takes care of him. He moves his fingers slow, stroking along the inner walls for a while before gliding his fingers in and out. Goro stretches out on the bed, arches his back like a cat and _purrs_ when Akira finally thrusts a little faster, a little harder.

He looks at Akira and finds him watching his face while perched over Goro’s thighs. He’s a fucking embarrassing romantic, always searching Goro’s face for the most minute changes in expression to figure out what feels good and where.

Goro reddens and tosses his face to the side. “Come on, fuck me already,” he grumps. “I know you want to.” He looks back at Akira and meaningfully drags his eyes down to his cock. It’s rock hard and Goro hasn’t even touched him. Pathetic.

A thrill runs through Goro when Akira makes a low noise in his throat and withdraws his fingers. Usually it takes a little more prodding before Akira will actually get down to business. “Finally—” he starts, but he spoke too soon because Akira isn’t lining up his cock, he’s wriggling his body lower on the bed and nestling his head between Goro’s thighs, and god _dammit_ Goro just wants his cock but Akira’s tongue is brushing against him in hesitant circles.

It feels good, and Goro lifts his hips a little despite himself. Akira has an unfair amount of talents, and his mouth is no exception. Akira shifts to support himself on his elbows and reach his hands under to palm Goro’s ass and angle him to reach better. His hands squeeze and knead at him and it sends sparks through Goro’s body, from the tips of his toes to his reddened ears, shivering through his bones.

“There we go, lift up for me,” he murmurs, humming happily when Goro complies. He flashes a smile up from between Goro’s legs before Goro turns his head away again and rests his burning cheek on the pillow. It’s already a little damp with sweat and humidity, which is gross, but Goro can deal with that better than he can with eye contact during sex.

Rimming’s never been Goro’s thing, but Akira _loves_ it, so Goro parts his legs and indulges him. Akira practically groans when he rubs his tongue against Goro’s hole more firmly, and Goro can’t help but pant out a quiet moan of his own.

Goro’s noises _really_ get Akira going, so he plays it up a little in hopes that’ll get Akira to get on with it already. He moans again, more loudly this time, and Akira echoes the moan eagerly. He wriggles two fingers back inside Goro’s hole and licks around them and… fuck, that feels really, _really_ fucking good. This time Goro’s moan is genuine and wrenches out of him without his permission.

Akira’s fucking him with his fingers again, _really_ fucking him, licking him for all he’s worth. His tongue travels up to Goro’s balls, sucks them gently while he shifts tactics to rub hard against Goro’s prostate instead of thrusting. Goro curses and _whines_ and doesn’t even get a chance to feel embarrassed by it because then Akira’s taking the tip of his cock inside his mouth. He doesn’t suck it in deeper, just laves attention on the head and he’s massaging him inside _so good,_ crooking his fingers and pressing deep and hard and Goro can’t help it, he’s canting his hips upward and burning from the inside out and he’s

“I’m gonna, I’m, Akira,” he gets out before he’s coming with a sharp gasp that he almost chokes on. He’s shaking out of his skin with mind-numbing pleasure, bucking and arching off the bed enough that Akira almost loses his hold on him. Akira sucks him for all he’s worth, sucks him dry before slipping his fingers out and finally lining up his cock.

“I need you now, fuck, Goro, you’re so gorgeous when you come.” Akira’s voice shakes with need. He rubs his dick against Goro’s slippery hole for a moment and teases with barely-there pressure, and Goro is too blissed out and pliant to complain about the praise and the further delay.

Then he’s pushing in and it’s raw and _deep. I_ t feels like overstimulated ecstasy. Goro loves it when Akira fucks him when he’s fresh and loose from orgasm. It makes him twitch and shake with every movement against frayed nerves, and Akira rubs soothing hands over his arms and chest. It’s _too much_ in a way that scratches an itch Goro has. It lets him believe that Akira _can_ be selfish, that he’s not a perfect godly being and wants to take his own pleasure, too. Goro likes being pushed a little even after coming, and so he’s lucky that Akira likes making him come almost more than Goro does.

Akira leans over him and rests his weight on his forearms so he can kiss Goro hard. His hips move slow in contradiction to the tongue fucking he’s giving Goro, and it’s making Goro’s head spin.

It’s too soon for Goro to get hard again, but pleasure is still sparking through him. Akira’s cock feels _amazing_ inside him, moving in just the right ways to make his breath quick and shallow. He’s recovered enough that he can start moving his hips in time with Akira’s, and Akira’s _loving_ that, panting humid air against Goro’s mouth. He nips and tugs roughly at Akira’s lower lip with his teeth.

Goro’s fingers slip along Akira’s spine and grasp at his ass, forcing him harder against him. Akira’s hips jerk at that, and Goro laughs a little into the barely-there kiss they’re sharing.

Goro rolls his hips up in just the way he knows Akira likes. By this point, Akira is panting slack-jawed into Goro’s mouth as he starts trembling, too wound-up to focus on kissing.

It’s a secret he keeps even from himself, but Goro likes seeing Akira start to lose himself. The muscles in his arms tighten and his jaw clenches while his eyes squeeze shut. He almost looks and sounds like he’s in pain as his hips snap forward. It’s only in these moments where he starts to get just the slightest bit rough, and Goro revels in it. He slams into Goro again and again while pressing their cheeks together, the sweetest groans pouring from his lips and into Goro’s ear.

He’s a bit of a screamer when he comes, so Goro braces himself and moves his ear away when he feels the rhythm falter. It’s not a moment too soon.

“Goro,” Akira breathes out shakily and then he yells loud enough to wake the dead. It fills Goro with heat, every time. Akira’s moans descend to deliciously rumbling growls as his hips slow and then stop. He flops onto Goro for a sweaty moment and then gathers himself up to pull out.

Akira watches in hungry fascination as his come dribbles out of Goro. Goro doesn’t complain about the staring though when Akira’s fingers drift back down to push his come back inside. He’s getting half-hard again after that fucking, shivering and panting.

“You want to come again, already?” Akira smiles with his eyes if not with his mouth. “But I already made you come so hard.”

Goro grits his teeth and doesn’t answer. He knows what’s coming, and his body hums with anticipation.

Akira may be tender during sex, but he has a _filthy_ mouth when he wants to.

“Tell me you want to,” Akira says silkily. He trails a finger along Goro’s hardening cock. It’s a barely-there touch that has Goro’s cock twitching and filling out more.

“Yes,” Goro growls.

“Yes?” Akira pauses the maddening slide of his finger and rests the tip on the tender skin just under the head. “You have to tell me what you want, or I can’t give it to you.”

Goro glares like it’ll light Akira’s head on fire if he stares angrily enough. “Fucking… _fine._ Make me come, for fuck’s sake. I want to come again.”

“Greedy boy,” Akira murmurs, but he grips Goro’s cock harder at last and pumps.

It’s dry and sensitive but _good_ , and Goro’s breath hitches after just a few strokes. Just a few more and his hips are trembling. He tries to arch them upwards, but Akira rests a hand on his hip. It’s not restraining Goro _per se,_ but it tells Goro what Akira wants: _stay put and let me touch you._

And Akira _talks_ while he fists Goro’s cock, dirty things that light Goro on fire. If anyone else knew the things Akira said in the bedroom, they would never be able to look him in the eye again.

“You feel so hot in my hand, Akechi, you feel so good. You feel good, don’t you? Tell me.”

“Yes,” Goro gasps, tipping his head back and squeezing his eyes shut.

“That’s right, of course you do. Let me take care of you, there’s my good boy.”

Goro whines at that and manages to hitch his hips upwards for just a moment before Akira’s hand presses down just a little more, just enough to remind Goro to stay down.

“This is what you needed, isn’t it? Someone to tell you to lie there and take it?” His voice winds its way through Goro's mind and ensnares him.

“Yes,” Goro _whimpers._

“Then take it.” Akira’s voice hardens and his fist tightens enough that Goro yells and jerks on the bed, thrashing his head side to side. It _almost_ hurts, almost, and it’s beautiful and wonderful and everything Goro needs. “You take it so well for me, Akechi. God, I love watching you fall apart.”

His words start to fade out in Goro’s head as the world dims with pleasure. Goro writhes under Akira’s hands, barely held in place by Akira straddling his thighs again to keep him down.

He hears, dimly, Akira telling him to come before he does. It’s a white-hot rush that builds in his gut all at once, before he's ready for it, sweeping through him and _wrecking_ him. He thinks he’s yelling, but he can’t quite tell.

When he recovers enough to open his eyes, he sees a small splatter of come on his _chest._ Fuck.

Akira’s head is resting on Goro’s hip and he smiles at him in wonder. He looks innocent and nothing like the devilish man who had just jerked Goro into oblivion.“You’re so beautiful when you come.”

“Shut up,” Goro pants, waiting for his heart to stop pounding and his breath to even out.

Still, this time he can’t tear his eyes away from Akira.

 _Beautiful,_ he thinks, but will never say. _He’s beautiful, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two will be Goro's turn and it's gon get kinky and ROUGH. ;D


	2. Akechi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has quite a different feel from the one before. Mind the new tags, and enjoy!  
> A million zillion thanks to [PenroseSun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenroseSun) for betaing!
> 
> FYI, I use "Goro" when it's from his point of view and "Akechi" when it's from Akira's point of view.

It’s another hot day when Akechi comes by next. It’s late evening and Sojiro dipped out a short while ago, leaving Akira to finish wiping the booth seats with a rag and wait for Akechi’s knock. Morgana’s out tonight as well, and Akira may have texted Akechi to come over with some ulterior motives.

The knock comes soon enough, and he unlocks the door and lets Akechi in with a soft smile.

“How were your exams?” he starts, but Akechi doesn’t answer. He looks at him and then he’s tugging Akira up the stairs, so Akira stumbles behind him.

Akechi slams Akira against the wall with a biting kiss and _oh,_ it’s been a while since they’ve done this, but Akira is game for it.

“No small talk today?” Akira pants.

Akechi answers with another searing kiss. He pulls back just barely and breathes “Not today,” against Akira’s lips.

Akechi has a thing for manhandling Akira, and he shows it now by shoving and pulling him to the bed. He pushes until Akira stumbles and then switches tactics, grabbing him by the arm and leading him forward. As soon as Akira gets his feet under him and follows, Akechi goes back to shoving and Akira’s losing his sense of balance all over again.

He feels disoriented, and he can’t catch up, and he’s kind of into it right now.

Finally, Akechi pushes Akira against the bed, and it feels like a breath of fresh air for him to be toppled down onto it after being herded across the room. They’re already both panting a little, and Akechi’s gaze is sharp in a way that sends prickles up and down Akira’s spine. He can’t help but arch a little at the sensation, and Akechi’s eyes track the movement.

Then the moment of stillness is gone. Akechi’s tugging Akira’s uniform shirt off, his glasses, then his plaid pants and his socks so that he’s mostly-naked, splayed beneath a buttoned up Akechi.

“You gonna take these off, too?” Akira quips, raising his hips meaningfully.

“Hm. Tempting.” Akechi rubs fingers over the soft cotton of Akira’s red boxer briefs, skimming and catching over his hips before he lifts the elastic waistband and lets it snap back. Akechi looks pleased when Akira yelps—then the boxer briefs are gone, tossed to the side along with Akira’s other clothes.

He shivers under Akechi’s gaze, even though it’s early fall and still swelteringly hot outside.

“You’re not nervous, are you, Akira-kun?”

“Not in the least,” Akira growls and grabs Akechi by the collar. Before he can pull Akechi forward, he’s slammed back down onto the bed.

“I think you need to remember who’s in charge,” Akechi says. He lets his teeth do the reminding, sinking them into the crook of Akira’s neck and sucking deep marks. He licks at a nipple before raking his nails over Akira’s ribs, marking him everywhere he can reach.

Akira knows he must look like a wreck. He feels obscene with welting pink lines running down his chest and crescent-shaped nail marks decorating his hips. 

Then Akechi’s back up and kissing Akira, and Akira can’t remember wanting anything else but Akechi’s lips over his. The kiss is a merciful change of pace, with much more tongue than teeth. Akechi sucks on Akira’s tongue, slow and sultry, while he makes a fist in Akira’s hair and grips hard. Akira moans and arches his neck back obediently. Akechi presses harder into the kiss, stealing every inch of space and every bit of air Akira has before he pulls back with a wet noise.

Akechi slides his belt out from his belt-loops and holds it, considering it for a moment before folding it to a leather strap. “Turn over,” he orders.

Akira obeys without a moment’s hesitation, settling in the sheets and resting his cheek on his folded arms. It’s hot in the attic, but he can feel goosebumps on his thighs. He shivers again.

He hears it a split second before he feels it. The belt cracks against his left cheek like fire. Then another blow, and another layered on top and Akira finally cries out. It sounds too loud in the otherwise silent building.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Akechi murmurs.

“Yes, yeah, it… yes, Akechi, it—”

“Now you’re going to take the other side.”

Akira nods and breathes shakily. He braces for a second, and then remembers it’ll hurt less if he keeps his muscles relaxed. He makes himself sag into the bed and clenches his lips together to hold in an anxious whine.

One, two, three—the belt stripes long welts along his right cheek. Akira cries out again in pained desperation as the last one fades from an inferno of sensation to a burning sting that won’t leave. Akechi drops his belt to the side of the bed and grabs at Akira’s cheeks roughly with both hands. Akira squirms and whimpers as Akechi examines his handiwork, as much from embarrassment as from soreness. He spanks once more on each side with his bare hand and then manhandles Akira over so he can straddle him and kiss. The cheap cotton sheets are _fire_ on his ass.

Akira feels vulnerable being naked like this under Akechi while Akechi himself is still clothed. Akechi had unbuttoned the first few buttons of his collared shirt at some point and Akira can’t help but run an admiring hand down his torso before it’s snatched away.

“You stay where I put you,” Akechi hisses, and Akira’s head falls back with the flood of heat those words send through him. He swallows and nods.

They both watch Akechi’s hand travel down his body, first with fingertips and then with nails. Akechi _likes_ hurting him, likes the way Akira hisses between his teeth when it hurts good. Akechi’s gaze drops to his cock. It’s hard, even after the beating Akira had taken, and it glistens at the tip. Akechi clicks his tongue. “Oh, look at you.” He smudges the pearly droplet. “It’s rare for you to get wet. You like getting beat up that much, do you?”

Akira swallows and raises his hips into Akechi’s barely-there touch. “Y-yeah, I guess I do.” His ass and upper thighs sting and protest, and the sensation squeezes out another drop of precome. Akechi leans forward and licks it off with the barest flick of his tongue, and then he’s leaning back again before Akira can so much as think to arch into the sensation.

“Good thing I’m not done hurting you yet.” Akechi isn’t smiling anymore. His fingers follow the same path they took before, skating over Akira’s chest and then grabbing at the skin hard, twisting and pulling his nipples enough that it doesn’t feel good, it just _hurts._

Akira likes it. Akechi knows he likes it.

Akechi trails his nails down and grips at his hips sharply. He digs crescent moons into Akira’s hip bones, drags pink lines along the delicate skin there.

He shifts down then so he’s breathing on Akira’s cock, watching intently. He scrapes a nail down the length of Akira’s cock and doesn’t let up on the same amount of pressure he’d used on his hips. It burns like fire and Akira yelps.

“Akechi,” he warns.

“Yes?” Akechi sounds flippant.

Then he does it again, another deep pink line parallel to the first. Akira’s hands clutch at the bed sheets and he almost convulses on the bed.

“It _hurts,”_ he snaps, and Akechi moves his fingers away and bends down to swipe his tongue along the underside. He lingers over the scratches, rubbing just the pointed tip of his tongue along them. It stings as much as it feels good, and Akira’s body doesn’t even know how to translate the data. When he glances down, Akechi is _smiling,_ and in this moment he looks dangerous. Akira knows he’s dangerous. He knows what he’s capable of.

Akechi grasps Akira’s cock lightly now and strokes. Akira knows it’s a trick—Akechi’s trying to make him complacent so the pain will be twofold when it comes again. He can’t help but give in anyway. 

Akechi tends to have that effect on him.

Akechi’s hand moves on him tantalizingly slowly, waiting for Akira to shiver before he releases his grip like the tease he is. His hand travels lower, lingering over his balls. He caresses them, massages them, and then wraps his fingers around his sac, _grabs_ and applies pressure. Too much pressure.

Akira chokes on spit and jerks upwards. “What the fuck, Akechi—”

It hurts, a little, and Akechi doesn’t stop squeezing. His smile gets bigger and bigger and Akira’s muscles tense tighter and tighter in nervous frozen anticipation before Akechi chuckles and—

Lets go.

Akira collapses back in relief.

“Are you afraid of me, Akira-kun?” Akechi smiles again. It’s a charming, innocent smile, the same he flashes in interviews.

Akira gives a sharp laugh and shakes his head, bewildered. “I don’t even know how to answer that.” 

In lieu of answering, he reaches forward and manages to unbutton the rest of Akechi’s shirt before Akechi shoves him down again. His shirt billows with his movements. Akira can’t tear his eyes away from the image Akechi makes with his prim white shirt framing flushed skin and toned muscles. Part of his shirt sticks to his skin with sweat that’s a mixture of late-summer heat and sticky arousal.

“Let’s pick up the pace a little, shall we?” Akechi reaches under the bed to where he knows Akira keeps the lube and slicks up a finger. Akira tries to keep from looking too eager when he bends his knees back, but Akechi isn’t looking at his face. Instead, he’s watching his middle finger sink inside as he rubs and slides it in slowly, so slowly. Akira can’t decide if that’s more or less embarrassing than him catching the expression Akira’s making. 

Akira isn’t usually on the bottom, and it takes a little adjusting. Akechi’s finger feels intrusive and almost wrong inside him, but he shifts the angle when Akira squirms unhappily and then it feels _right_ instead. He withdraws to slick a second finger before Akira can let himself start feeling good, and pushes them both in together. He keeps them at that perfect angle; every inch of his fingers rub friction along his prostate, in and out, stretching Akira wider and then adding a third finger almost before Akira’s ready for it.

Akira takes a steadying breath and closes his eyes, counts to ten and forces himself to relax his muscles. Three fingers is a lot, for him. It’s been a while since he’s had more than his own finger inside him on a particularly needy night. He feels Akechi’s fingers reach deeper as he fully relaxes, and it really does _ache_ now but the steady in-and-out motion is lighting up nerves Akira forgot he even had.

“That’s good,” he gasps out, rolling his head to the side. The angle shifts and he opens his eyes to see Akechi above him. Akira arches his head up, silently begging for a kiss, and Akechi gives it to him and then scatters bites down his neck. He sucks at his collarbones as his thrusts grow rougher, grinds his erection against Akira’s leg until they’re both panting.

“I’m ready,” Akira says, twisting his hips a little to try and get that same perfect angle back. “You can… put it in.”

“Oh, you want _another_?” Akechi looks up in mock-surprise. “Four fingers in such a tight ass? You’re truly greedy, Akira.”

Akira grits his teeth. “You know what I meant—” he starts, and his voice wavers when Akechi pulls out. For a moment he thinks _no, why would I want more fingers instead of…_ but then he’s surprised by a flood of dizzying heat when he looks at the size of Akechi’s four fingers lined up together.

Akechi tucks his pinky against his other fingers and makes a curved wedge of them as he pours more lube onto his hand. “Remember to breathe,” he says in a rare moment of sympathy, and then he’s _pressing,_ pushing at Akira’s hole as it slowly accepts him thanks to copious lube and stretching. Akira’s skin feels stretched thin all over, from his ears to his toes. A frantic groan wrenches from his chest when he feels all four of Akechi’s knuckles hit the rim of his ass. He thinks about how Akechi’s fingers looked when he lined them up, then thinks of those very fingers inside him.

“Mm, you just got so tight, right there,” Akechi says. “You like being stuffed with my fingers, don’t you?”

Akira can only nod, deliriously.

It feels like an endless moment of Akechi grinding his fingers into him. He’s not thrusting at this point, not more than a centimeter at a time; instead he’s making Akira feel every inch of the fingers inside him.

“Akechi, I think…” Akira starts. _I think I’m ready for your cock, I think this is all I can take_ he wants to say, but Akechi rubs just right again and all Akira’s words flee his mind.

“You can take another,” Akechi says. It isn’t a question.

He drips more lube onto his fingers, slots his thumb against the rest of his hand, and starts to push in slow, so slow. Akira’s body opens, millimeter by millimeter and he doesn’t know _how_ he can take it, but Akechi is rotating his wrist back and forth and Akira shouts when the widest point of Akechi’s hand presses against his rim.

It’s too much but he wants it, and he _sobs_ and slams his head into the pillow and his fist into the bed when all of Akechi breaches him. He’s stuffed full, fuller than he ever could have thought possible, and it sends shocks through him that he can’t control. Akechi watches him as he twitches and convulses on the bed.

“I knew you could do it,” Akechi says with wonder. He reaches up with his other hand and brushes a tear off Akira’s cheek. He pushes the salty thumb into Akira’s mouth and Akira sucks it and whimpers as two more tears slide down to take its place. Akechi’s shift in movement also changes the angle of his fist so it presses blunt against his prostate and feels so good it _hurts._

“Look at you, taking my whole hand, taking it so well, I can’t…” Akechi looks torn between fisting Akira and getting his cock out, and Akira helps him out with that by reaching forward with trembling hands to undo Akechi’s slacks for him. “What did I say about greedy?” Akechi says with a sharp smile, but he looks pleased as Akira manages to tug his underwear down just enough that his cock bobs free. Akira can’t help but lick his lips as he looks at it, and Akechi notices.

“Greedy,” he murmurs again, and he slowly, slower than Akira would’ve thought possible, withdraws his hand from Akira’s ass. He can feel himself gaping after it slides free and he flushes red with the feeling. Akechi doesn’t notice—he’s busy wiping his hand off on the edge of Akira’s sheets and lubing his cock up. The bottle is much emptier now than it was when they started. Akira makes a mental note to pick some more up from Takemi. He’s sure she’ll find it amusing, and Morgana will find it scandalizing.

Then Akira’s mind goes blank; Akechi is lining up and thrusts in with no preamble, leaving Akira to throw his legs around his waist and hold on with what strength he has left in his legs.

His cock isn’t as big as his fist, of course—it’s not the biggest Akira’s had either—but it reaches deeper and pistons faster, and Akira’s ass greedily sucks it in even as it aches. Akira feels scraped raw, everywhere, inside and out. All he can do is spread his legs and take it, and luckily Akechi doesn’t seem to want further input from him. Akira is mostly flaccid at this point. It feels good— _amazingly_ good—but he usually can’t keep it up when he’s bottoming. The sensations of everything _else_ just take over and he can’t maintain any extra blood flow to his dick when he’s so focused on the feeling of Akechi moving inside him, rubbing against every bit of him.

Beyond that, Akira _hurts._ His neck, his ass, his chest, his hips sting with the pain Akechi inflicted on him. His ass aches inside, the twin scratches on the underside of his cock throb with his heartbeat, his ears are filled with the dirty words Akechi is saying and the sweet desperate noises he’s making. It’s _too much too much too much_ and the only way Akira can take it is to just… let go.

He lets his breath come slow and concentrates on the way it fills him. He breathes the way Takemi taught him last time she coached him through a difficult recovery from her medicine: inhale for seven seconds so his chest inflates, hold for a moment, another moment, until his chest feels tight and full, and then release the air slow with a _whoosh_. It works to clear his mind and he’s floating on air, swimming in the scent and feel of _Akechi_ over him, and every touch is delicious slow fire instead of electricity.

The pleasure and pain swirl and merge together so he can’t tell one from the other, until he isn’t sure they weren’t the same to begin with. His head lolls back and he lets his body ragdoll, jostling with each thrust. He’s shoved steadily up the pillow until his head almost knocks against the wall, and Akechi grabs his hips and _yanks_ him back halfway down the bed in a show of strength that makes Akira’s head swim even more.

Akechi doesn’t touch his cock, and Akira doesn’t make a move to, either. He just lets the sensation of Akechi slamming into him fill his every nerve, lets himself be used for Akechi’s pleasure because _fuck_ that really does it for him. He doesn’t want to come, not really. He wants _Akechi_ to come. He’s floating on air, swimming in a warm current of pleasure, and he’s distantly aware that he’s making broken little noises each time Akechi’s hips snap in. He’s more aware of the noises _Akechi_ is making, of the wild way Akechi’s teeth are bared and the dark flush of his face.

Akechi’s really slamming into him now, driving Akira into the mattress with every movement. It’s a lot, it’s almost too much, it _is_ too much, but heat coils in anticipation of Akechi’s orgasm because he can _tell_ he’s almost there, he’s on the edge. He can tell from the way Akechi’s teeth clench and the way his eyes go hazy, by the way his rhythm falters and his fingers clench painfully on Akira’s bruised hips.

He watches in rapt attention as Akechi’s face squeezes and he chokes out a loud moan. A rush of come fills him and Akira squirms at the strange sensation even while he gasps out along with Akechi. He can’t stop watching Akechi’s face as it goes slack and content, as he shivers once more and opens his eyes to pin Akira with his stare.

He slides out before Akira’s ready for it, and Akira whimpers. “Shall we go to sleep?” he says, and laughs when Akira whimpers again. “Oh, you’re not satisfied? After all I’ve given you?” He strokes lazy fingers along one of the longer, redder scratch marks on Akira’s torso.

Akira isn’t sure what the right answer is, but when he says, hoarsely, “You gave me just what I needed,” Akechi looks pleased, and he knows that was the correct thing to say.

Akechi sits up and leans back against the window, elegant in his nudity. “Touch yourself if you like,” he says with a dismissive wave. Akira’s hand jumps to his cock without a moment’s hesitation to tug it to hardness. Contrary to Akechi’s tone, he watches Akira’s hand move with pink cheeks.

It doesn’t take long, especially not with the throbbing ache of the belt marks and Akechi’s sharp eyes on him. The come inside him feels wet and unfamiliar, but knowing that it’s _Akechi’s_ makes his cock throb harder and a moan tear itself from his throat.

He starts to shake all over and Akechi’s gaze on him turns _hungry._ He clenches his jaw and works his cock harder, faster, climbing to a peak and his gasps quicken. “Akechi—” he moans out, and his eyes open to try and focus on his face. Akechi’s watching his hand on his cock, but his eyes flick up to Akira’s face when he feels him looking.

Akira’s right on the edge, he’s _right there,_ and somehow Akechi knows what he needs. He trails a single finger down Akira’s chest and returns his gaze to Akira’s cock. “Come on then, show me what you’re good for.”

“Fuck, please, Akechi, _coming, I’m coming, I’m coming–_ ” Akira arches his hips high as he comes hard, shaking out of his skin with molten heat he can’t contain. It feels better than any self-inflicted orgasm should. When he clenches his ass and feels the bruising welts sting,his cock twitches again and lets out one more pulse of come.

“There you go.” Akechi sounds pleased, and Akira basks in the sound. “Satisfied now?”

Akira nods and tries to pull Akechi back down to lie on the bed with him, grasping him with shaky hands. Akechi exhales an almost-laugh and complies for once in his damn life. He lets Akira wrap limbs around his middle and clutch at his back, and Akira doesn’t even have time to cherish the hesitant stroke of Akechi’s hand up and down his back before he’s asleep.


End file.
